


Nocturnal Animals

by Residesatshamecentral



Series: A Plague On Both Your Houses [5]
Category: SS-GB (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, And career, And probably impossible, Any slander of British intelligence in the 1950s is unintentional, Cold War, Evil!Springer, Hey what else do you expect, Huth made a poor choice of father figures, Intimidation, More Plots, Plots, SS-GB - Freeform, Terrorism, bespoke spy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 19:10:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Residesatshamecentral/pseuds/Residesatshamecentral
Summary: Huth takes a walk and finds he has an appointment instead.





	Nocturnal Animals

In the dark, the lighthouse was visible for miles. It flashed its mute warning out silently, a red firefly in the dark. Huth stood alone on the pier and thought of rocks in the dark, worn to brutal sharpness by the endless and uncaring millennia of waves. Time would wear those rocks to sand, drifting on the seabed, and then to dust. Nothing lasted. The flickering moment, his life, his brief firework of a career, his own thoughts, were a microscopic speck in a sea vaster than any the earth could possibly hold.

The thought made him smile, lips peeling from teeth unseen in the dark. In his memory was the sound of gunfire. Was he supposed to be grateful that he had learned as he got older? Surely, if there were any capricious God to address the thought to, he should rather resent not having learnt the lessons earlier. He lit a cigarette absentmindedly and shifted on his feet. His insomnia rarely permitted him to sleep earlier than two in the morning. He toyed with the idea of sampling the nightlife in town, but a disagreement in a bar last week had left him with bloody knuckles and a reason to avoid police in the area. That the disagreement had been with a semi-drunk Russian on the subject of paternity was not a viable defence in court, rather unjustly.

A murmur of voices nearby mingled with the sound of the surf. The wood of the pier creaked under two sets of feet.

Alarm systems in Huth’s hindbran woke and began to go off. He took the cigarette from his mouth with slow deliberation, cupping it in his palm. The alarm systems continued to do their work as two stealthy pairs of footsteps creaked faintly towards him over the salt-stained pier. His muscles tensed and flexed unhurriedly as he turned toward the intent figures awkwardly bearing down on him.

“Hullo” he said mildly. They were dressed slightly shabbily, with coat collars turned up below the low brims of their hats. “Sorry to disappoint you, but trade is found in town. I can recommend some addresses if you like.”

“Herr Huth?” said one.

“No” he replied.

“You are” said the other “only you could prove so punchable the moment you open your mouth.”

“Is that you, Glott?” he bent his head slightly to peer into the shadows of the man’s face.

“I know you go by the name Wulf now” said the possible Glott. “Forgive the new man, he hasn’t learned it’s rude to use our old names yet. Look, you have an appointment.”

“Do I?”

“Oh yes you do.”

“And if I happen to be washing my hair?” The moonlight gleamed off the bare patches of skin just above Huth’s temples.

“If you really want to be roundhouse punched and dragged away, it’s all the same to me” said the other man, mildly. “But you and I haven’t seen each other in ten years, and it’s a shame to start a reunion by knocking a man’s teeth out, I always say.”

“You must have an exciting record in reunions.”

“You have no idea.”

They searched him. Then they led him up the beech toward the pale, monumental bulk of the looming buildings. The dead eyes of their windows glittered darkly in the light from the lamps. As his escort steered him towards a waiting car, Huth had the impression of a silent necropolis, where the dead slept blissful, ignorant and cold behind those lightless windows. He wondered if he would join them. Glott, his face visible at last, opened the door of the back seat politely for him as the other man stood close behind.

“Well, what?” he said as he slid into the leather seat.

“Seatbelt” said Springer coolly. He nodded at Glott and the man walked to the other side of the car.

“Stiener, this is Wulf, Wulf, Stiener” continued Springer as Glott opened the door to the front passenger seat and got in. “You know each other and neither of you is dead. It’s nice.”

“So nice” replied Huth.

“You always did talk too much when you were nervous” said Springer. The car set off down the empty road.

“Right now” continued Springer mildly “you are considering possible replies including ‘why should I be nervous?’ ”

“You just had me Shanghaid into a late night insomniac meeting, to all appearances” said Huth. “Nervousness should at least be on the horizon, just behind confusion and annoyance.”

“As I said, you talk too much.” Springer took out a gold cigar case and helped himself to a thick Cuban cigar. He offered one to Huth, who took it silently. Springer lit for both of them. “But if it makes you feel more at ease, I am not angry.”

“Excellent! Why should you be angry?”

“Because I know about Maugham.”

In the long pause that followed, Huth imagined his jaw cracking under Glott’s fist, the sweet smoke of the cigar still in his lungs. Well, at least he would have a final pleasure.

“You should have told me, Oskar” said Springer. His worn face was without expression. “I have wanted a point of contact for some time.”

Huth felt the world rearrange itself around him. He kept his face carefully blank as he replied. “You are hoping to turn him to the cause?”

“Not exactly. Not quite. You never handled office politics well, Oskar.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Request denied. You were too hot tempered and annoyed the wrong people, though I give you credit in other areas. But my point is, we have entered a new kind of office politics here. Maugham’s position as a deniable intelligence asset to the British puts him in a unique position. His superiors never need admit that he is still a piece in their game.”

“And you hope to use him as a channel to those superiors?”

“Not exactly.”

“Just what game is this?”

“A very subtle one.”

“That is not a straight answer.”

“It is straight enough for the game.”

“You said I was in your confidence.”

“Oh, you always are.”

“Then do I not get a real answer?”

“You will, when the time is right. Stop here” Springer told the driver. Glott looked over the back seat and received a nod. They had stopped outside the back door to a white stucco mansion. Huth quickly memorised the details of the street, aware of Springer’s hooded eyes on him. “The car will take you wherever you want to go” said his old mentor softly. “I only needed to give you your instructions. I heard you had a habit of taking midnight walks at the seafront. Insomnia?”

“Insomnia.”

“I’m sorry for that. But to the point. I want you to arrange a meeting with Maugham.”

“At his house?”

“Preferably. But I am open to suggestions.” He got out of the car. Glott knocked on the back door and cast a glance over his shoulder.

“As yourself?” said Huth “Or under your Nom de la Couverture?”

Springer gave him one small smirk of real amusement as the door opened behind him.

“Oskar, you seem to think that anyone is even pretending here.”


End file.
